"You go to sleep, Bud," laughed the sheriff. "You can't catch me that easy."

Shoop relaxed with the grin of a school-boy.

"I'll go bail," offered Corliss.

"No. That would spoil my plan. See here, Jack, I know you and Bud won't talk. Loring telephoned me to look out for Sundown. I did.

Now, Loring knows who shot Fadeaway, or I miss my guess. Nellie Loring knows, too. So do you, but you can't prove it. It was like Fade to put Loring's sheep into the canon, but we can't prove even that, now.

I'm pretty sure your sc.r.a.p with Fade didn't have anything to do with his getting shot. You ain't that kind."

"Well, here's my side of it, Jim. Fadeaway had it in for me for firing him. He happened to see me talking to Nellie Loring at Fernando's camp. Later we met up on the old Blue Trail. He said one or two things that I didn't like. I let him have it with the b.u.t.t of my quirt. He jerked out his gun and hit me a clip on the head. That's all I remember till the boys came along."

"You didn't ride as far as the upper ford, that day?"

"No. I told Fadeaway I wanted him to come back with me and talk to Loring. I was pretty sure he put the sheep into the canon."

"Well, Jack, knowing you since you were a boy, that's good enough for me."

"But how about Sundown?"

"He stays. How long do you think I'll hold Sundown before Nell Loring drives into Antelope to tell me she can like as not prove he didn't kill Fade?"

"But if you know that, why do you hold him?"

"To cinch up my ideas, tight. Holding him will make talk. Folks always like to show off what they know about such things. It's natural in 'em."

"New Mex. is a comf'table-sized State," commented Shoop from the bed.

"And he was raised there," said the sheriff. "He's got friends over the line and so have I. Sent 'em over last week."

"Thought Sun was raised back East?" said Shoop, again sitting up.

Corliss smiled. "Better give it up, Bud."

"Oh, _very_ well!" said Shoop, mimicking a _grande dame_ who had once stopped at Antelope in search for local color. "Anyhow, you got to set a Mexican to catch a Mexican when he's hidin' out with Mexicans." With this bit of advice, Shoop again relapsed to silence.

"Going back to the Concho to-morrow?" queried Banks.

"No. Got a little business in town."

"I heard Loring was due here to-morrow." The sheriff stated this casually, yet with intent. "I was talking with Art Kennedy 'bout two hours ago--"

"Kennedy the land-shark?" queried Shoop.

"The same. He said something about expecting Loring."

Bud Shoop had never aspired to the distinction of being called a diplomat, but he had an active and an aggressive mind. With the instinct for seizing the main chance by its time-honored forelock, he rose swiftly. "By Gravy, Jack! I gone and left them things in the buckboard!"

"Oh, they'll be all right," said Corliss easily. Then he caught his foreman's eye and read its meaning. His nod to Shoop was all but imperceptible.

"I dunno, Jack. I'd hate to lose them notes."

"Notes?" And the sheriff grinned. "Writing a song or starting a bank, Bud?"

"Song. I was composin' it to Jack, drivin' in." And the genial Bud grabbed his hat and swept out of the room.

Long before he returned, Sheriff Jim had departed puzzling over the foreman's sudden exit until he came opposite "The Last Chance" saloon.

There he had an instant glimpse of Bud and the one known as Kennedy leaning against the bar and conversing with much gusto. Then the swing-door dropped into place. The sheriff smiled and putting two and two together found that they made four, as is usually the case. He had wanted to let Corliss know that Loring was coming to Antelope and to let him know casually, and glean from the knowledge anything that might be of value. Sheriff Banks knew a great deal more about the affairs of the distant ranchers than he was ordinarily given credit for. He had long wondered why Corliss had not taken up the water-hole homestead.

Corliss was in bed when Shoop swaggered in. The foreman did a few steps of a jig, flung his hat in the corner, and proceeded to undress.

"Did you see Kennedy?" yawned Corliss.

"Bet your whiskers I did! Got the descriptions in my pocket. You owe me the price of seven drinks, Jack, to say nothin' of what I took myself. Caught him at 'The Last Chance' and let on I was the pore lonely cowboy with a sufferin' thirst. Filled him up with 'Look-out-I'm-Comin'' and landed him at his shack, where he dug up them ole water-hole descriptions, me helpin' promiscus. He kind o' bucked when I ast him for them papers. Said he only had one copy that he was holdin' for another party. And I didn't have to strain my guesser any, to guess who. I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him pinched for playin' favorites. Guess he seen I meant business, for he come acrost. She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'. This is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's eatin' on the county. Kind o' had a hunch that way."

"We'll have to nail it quick. If you file you'll have to quit on the Concho."

"Well, then, I quit. Sinker is right in line for my bunk. Me for the big hammer and the little ole sign what says: 'Private property! Keep off! All trespa.s.sers will be executed!' And underneath, kind o'

sa.s.sy-like, 'Bud Shoop, proprietor.'"

CHAPTER XIX

THE ESCAPE

About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of "Fire!" They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their clothes.

"Spontinuous conibustication," said Shoop, with a yawn. "A Jew clothin'-store and a insurance-policy. Wonder who's ablaze?"

"I can see from here," said Corliss at the window. "Keep on dressing, Bud, it's the sheriff's office!"

"Sundown!" Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot halfway down his pants-leg.

They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building. A group of half-dressed citizens were pa.s.sing buckets and dashing their final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.

"He's sure done on both sides if he's in there," remarked Shoop. He ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown.

Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into the rear room. A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from the jail to the office. The room seemed to be empty. Shoop dropped to the ground and strolled around to the front. "Tryin' to save the buildin' or the prisoner?" he asked of a sweating bucket-pa.s.ser.

The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing about excitedly. "Hey, boys!" he shouted. "Get an axe and chop open the back! The long gent is roastin' to death in there!"

"And I reckon that'll keep 'em busy while Sun fans it," soliloquized Shoop. "h.e.l.lo, Jack!" And he beckoned to Corliss. "He ain't in there," he whispered, "But how he got out, gets me!"

"We might as well go back to bed," said Corliss. "They'll get him, anyway. There's one of Jim's deputies on a cayuse now."

"Where do you reckon he'll head for?"

"Don't know, Bud. If he heads for the water-hole, they'll get him in no time."